Highlights

Once upon a time, I made the presumptuous statement that “nobody can resist reggae” when writing about a Co La recording. In response, TMT’s favorite hype-man, C Monster, called me out in a private message saying that he hates reggae — even Bob Marley [C Monster note: this is true]! But thennnnn, a couple months later, he grinds this shiz [C Monster note: regrettably true] and prolly jizzed all over that Congos collab, too [C Monster note: keyboard is still sticky]!

So, even though no one is looking for any reasons to be smitten with the riddims, the Eeyore of indie rock, Bill Callahan, has cranked up the reverb and is strumming his guitar on the off-beats to get you ready for his new record coming out next month. Dream River is scheduled to be released on September 17, but you can currently obtain a 12-inch single on Drag City featuring two dubbed-up versions of songs on the new full-length. “Expanding Dub” is a reworking of the future LP’s track “Javelin Unlanding,” containing rich tribal instrumentation and a solid dub infusion. Callahan’s voice doesn’t exactly fit the typical mold for a track like this, but his velvety timbre and a hearty echo effect make for a smooth-ass addition to the rootsy jam.

Imagine the world a couple hundred thousand years in the future. Long after Mt. Rainier spews its grungy lava all over the Pacific Northwest; centuries after continents have blown each other to smithereens over ideological differences; once the ice caps melt and drown the rest of humanity; when the only surviving Earthling creatures are bed bugs and cockroaches and sea urchins; this is when aliens discover our planet. These extra-terrestrial beings are curious and want to know what’s up. So they begin to dig. They find skyscrapers, iPods, smart cars, skateboards, and layers and layers of junk/treasures.

The gems of Earth with be very different in the distant future, which is exactly what Brooklyn musician Gem Trails is looking to help develop, utilizing rumbling futuristic bass tones that shift beneath the surface of first single “Cashed Out For Real” from the upcoming EP Dripps. Busy percussion scurries along the throbbing foundation of the piece to create a rich and suspenseful track that serves as a perfect soundtrack to mental images of alien archaeologists. So, pre-order now for $4 through the Bandcamp link below; Dripps hits reality September 9 on Fire Talk, so scope it before it’s too late!

Sometimes a person is offered the opportunity to glimpse at a moment that is very personal to somebody else. Two examples of this: an artist’s workspace (be it a studio, bedroom, practice room, dungeon, balcony, garden, or through live performances) and a wedding. Disparate contexts, but both contain a similar sense of emotional place, serenity, and beauty. Though, one is a scene of limitless optimism, while the other is often plagued by intense turmoil and self-doubt.

The artistic process is nothing like a wedding. Being an artist is ugly and depressing, because for those most committed to their art, there is no worse critic than thyself. First and foremost, an artist is married to his or her opus (either a single piece that represents a lifelong artistic statement, or an entire oeuvre) before he or she is married to anybody else. Long after the bedroom lights go out, the subconscious light of creativity still glows and interferes with human contact. Other people won’t understand that it’s the type of love that’s almost inanimate because music cannot return any definitive feedback. Being a musician is like being married to someone who will never make up their mind and never actually talk. Ever. Thousands of wordless, lonely conversations. All the artist can do is continually perfect it, and eventually it will shine for them, and in turn reflect positively or negatively. Other people may love them for it, but their music will never love them.

In this except, from a live performance at a friend’s wedding, The OO-Ray merits the listener the very opportunity to experience two moments of incredible intimacy, using what appears to be looping piano and “shoegaze cello.” Like any good performance, there are conflicting emotions that overlap each other in a climactic and intense journey. The clean, almost cliché loveliness of the cello is turned forlorn and melancholy by the repetitive, looping nature of the performance, and the continuous layering of complicated emotional fragments on top only add to the overall beauty of the mix. The best music, in any genre, makes one feel very much, but not know immediately what it is they are feeling. The best music does not make you feel love, but makes you feel the artist’s love, and then allows you to interpret it.

And always at night, I find myself flicking too quick through the songs I’ve collected. Whether I’m gaming or writing, driving or walking, smoking, drinking, or sobering, I’m constantly clicking through. Late-night modern programming got me all, “OK,” as per usual. People be at me ALWAYS with their music, and I just front up now. Sometimes beats keep me awake, so I head for rap if I’m nodding to sleep more than the music. But the idea is I’d like to keep myself ever-changing. I can’t listen to the same music for too long, or I’ll just find something completely different to take its audible “place.” All of these musicians have spent a lot of time in my head outside of this mix and inside of their albums/EPs/mixtapes/etc. Et cetera: the internet is my destiny, America made me a machine, New York doesn’t look anyone in the eyes, mispronunciation provides heaps of humor, and ALWAYS send Grams jokes during the weekdays via email, so she strengthens her modern versatility, ‘cause if there were a tank, she could live in for the next 30 years… bring on any age post-100!

Every night minds race. Let’s pace it together this evening. You and you and you and [ad nauseum] and me. No champion. Just chill.

A few months ago, we posted the first audio/video mix from Portland’s Blankstairs label: a collaboration between Astro Nautico’s Michael Jukeson and the Blankstairs visual crew. This time, it’s Blankstairs’s own Nathaniel Young touching base with the Pacific Northwest’s video artist, Alex Geerken. The whole thing is like sitting on your porch, smoking and waiting for the thunderstorm to roll in. The video cracks like lightning as the song begins to drip all around you. A kind of empty tension starts rising and it never stops crawling through you. Another sign of good things to come from the Blankstairs collective, I think.